Ironic isn't it?
by DerangedxandxSarcastic
Summary: ...only I knew that the greatest gift anyone could ever give him was to let him die... suicide, depression, self harm, character death.


A/N: This is a oneshot that came to me when I was listening to the song 'What Sarah Said' by Death Cab for Cutie, great song you should go download it, and reading a story by fairy-daust3 called 'join me in death'. It's a wonderful fic and you should all go read it, after you leave me a review of course. My friend Carson who read this through for me and said that it reads a lot better if you play the song at the same time. Try it out, she's usually right.

**WARNING: possible spoilers, if you squint. **

Ironic isn't it?

Ironic isn't it? That the supposed hero, the savior of the wizarding world, hated to be called that. Hated every person that said it.

Ironic that he was the one supposed to mourn tragically the ones he'd lost, to love their memory and be content with that. Yet, really, he loathed them, every last one of them for leaving him.

Ironic that the boy who was supposed to be his enemy was the only one that knew all his secrets.

I was the only one who knew that Harry Potter barely ever slept. He wandered the castle and the grounds, every morning going back to his dorm to pretend he had slept.

I was the only one who knew that Harry cut himself, his wrists, his legs, his chest, sometimes even his face. He healed them with magic, leaving only the faintest of scars. So, the only way you noticed them was if you pressed up against his skin.

Like I was so many nights, so many nights when he would rage at the world, and then cry as he finished with me, his hot, wet tears leaking from his eyes to land on my chest. Every one of those nights he would cry into my shoulder as I fell asleep and then he would get up, go to the bathroom, and cut himself; and the next time he came back there would be another scar for me to discover.

No matter how much his friends and the rest of the world thought they knew, only I knew that he had a five pointed star carved into his chest, one line for each parental figure that had died to protect him, Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Albus Dumbledore.

Only I knew that the night the Weasley twins died he had carved a line down either cheek, from temple too chin.

Only I knew, because only I looked anymore.

Weasley and Granger put up the pretense of looking, of knowing, but in all reality they had stopped looking when Harry had stopped showing. They cared still, oh yes, I did not deny that they cared; they just did not care enough to delve into his troubled mind, to bring him back from death's door.

And only I knew that the greatest gift anyone could ever give him was to let him die, and, if they had the courage, to help him in the deed.

This is how we got to where we are now, outside the castle, under the willow tree, beside Dumbledore's tomb. I'm clutching a knife, it's almost eight inches long and I cringe away from the sight of the tip pressed into his flesh.

I look into his emerald eyes and see only pain and turmoil. And pleading, he wants to die. He wants so badly to be with those that have gone on. To see him like this, so desperate for me to kill him, to end his life, to end his pain. It took all of my indecision away.

This whole time I had been unsure of what to do. I didn't know if I was doing what was best, letting him die, killing him. But now seeing his pain I know, this was the best thing I could ever do for him. I plunge the knife into his chest; he does not flinch or gasp in pain. No, he sighs in relief. I look once more into his eyes, the pain is gone.

I pull the knife back from his chest, entranced by the blood that drips off of it.

I love you, I whisper.

_For love is watching someone die._

But, he is gone.

_Who's going to watch you die?_

I don't know the answer to my question, but it does not matter as I push the already bloody knife through my own flesh, between my ribs and into my heart.

_Love is watching someone die…_

I'm the one to watch him die. No one is there to watch me. I'm the only one to love him enough to let him go, but not for long. I had to follow, still…

Ironic isn't it?

A/N: Depressing? Maybe, but I like it personally, thanks Carson for reading it through. Tell me what you think.

DerangedxandxSarcastic


End file.
